A Bowler Says, What?

I don't think I could consider myself a bowler. I mean, I'm not in a bowling league, I don't own my own ball or my own shoes and although I do own a sharp retro bowling shirt, I wouldn't go so far as to call myself a bowler.

I do, however, thoroughly enjoy a game every now and again.

On Saturday, March 14th I traveled over to the Caldwell bowling alley to cover the first-annual Bowl Down Drugs community event. More than 60 children and their families came to the event, which focused on raising awareness about drug abuse prevention in the home.

As I watched these children and their families laugh and cheer as pins hit the hardwood I couldn't help but feel a small sense of jealousy swell up from within. Watching people have fun has always been a part of my job but for some reason this particular assignment drove me to action.

After clocking out later that evening I coerced a couple friends into heading down to the bowling alley to play a few games of our own. I came out playing some inspired bowling as I was able to string together a set of 5 strikes in a row in the first game, beating my personal record of 178ish with a score of 195.

My second game, however, did not go so well.

While photographing the children bowling earlier in the day I caught a little guy reacting to a missed spare attempt. As it would turn out, this image captured quite well the feeling I experienced that night when I bowled my best game ever and then turned around and posted my worst score in recent memory the very next game.


A 65. Yes, 65.

To add insult to the matter, we were bowling next to a group of high school girls who all were able to score higher than I and then made it abundantly clear to me just how pathetic the game had been. Feeling as though my own personal sense of dignity had been damaged I came back with vengeance, bowling a 188 in the third and final game.

So to those of you who may now be skeptical, I would like to make one thing abundantly clear. It has been said that the shoes make the man (or in this case the bowler). I roll in rental shoes so I, my friend, am no bowler. Just a dude in a tacky retro bowling shirt.